"
We passed on. I suppose about twenty minutes had gone when, as we were
entering the garden again, we heard loud cries. Hurrying forward towards
the Tanks, we saw a strange sight.
There, on a narrow wall dividing two great tanks, were three people--Mrs.
Falchion, Amshar, and the rejected Arab guide. Amshar was crouching
behind Mrs. Falchion, and clinging to her skirts in abject fear. The Arab
threatened with a knife. He could not get at Amshar without thrusting
Mrs. Falchion aside, and, as I said, the wall was narrow. He was bent
like a tiger about to spring.
Seeing Mrs. Falchion and Amshar apart from the others,--Mrs. Falchion
having insisted on crossing this narrow and precipitous wall,--he had
suddenly rushed after them. As he did so, Miss Treherne saw him, and
cried out. Mrs. Falchion faced round swiftly, and then came this tragic
situation.
Some one must die.
Seeing that Mrs. Falchion made no effort to dislodge Amshar from her
skirts, the Arab presently leaped forward. Mrs. Falchion's arms went out
suddenly, and she caught the wrist that held the dagger. Then there was
an instant's struggle.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193